The Heavens Blaze
by Cats070911
Summary: Barbara and Tommy must face their hardest challenge - losing each other.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply.

* * *

"I'll just hang around here," Barbara told her boss as they stood at the entrance to the ornately carved Portland stone building. "How long will you be?"

"You misunderstood. I would like you to come in with me. This concerns you."

"Me? Why do I need to go and see your solicitor?"

"I don't want to discuss it here. We can talk inside."

Tommy took her elbow and tried to steer her inside. She shook him off. "No. We can speak here. What's going on, Sir? You've been acting weird for a couple of weeks."

"Nothing," Tommy snapped. "I would prefer if for once, Havers, you'd do as I ask without arguing."

Barbara opened her mouth, then shut it again. He looked genuinely distressed. "Only if you promise to tell me what's upsetting you."

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe you."

"For heaven's sake Havers, I'm just trying to do the right thing." He turned and walked into the building.

She followed him. They said nothing as they clanked up three floors in an old-fashioned open lift. The mahogany lined corridor with its marbled floor was daunting. The smell of old paper and stale tobacco transported Barbara into the 19th century. Trust Tommy to have an ancient solicitor. "You couldn't have a solicitor in a modern building could you."

"Sterring, Hutchins and Bugg have been our solicitors for over a hundred years."

"Yeah, and I'm betting the original partners are still practising."

Tommy grunted something she clearly was not meant to understand, but she was not blind to his attitude. Something serious was troubling him. Knowing when to stop arguing, she sat silently on the rigid wooden chair beside him. Tommy had aged quickly. His face was gaunt and lined, and his hands shook. It was not enough for anyone else to notice, but it worried her. He had insisted they spend more time together, so she doubted he was drinking too heavily, but he certainly was not sleeping well, so maybe he was going home each night and losing himself in a bottle of single malt.

"Sir, you know that I'm always here for you, don't you?"

Tommy nodded and gave her a sad smile. "That's why we're here."

Ten minutes later they were ushered further back in time. Malcolm Smythe-Turnour's room reminded Barbara of Scrooge's office on a television show she had recently watched. The smell of old leather, dust and fly spray assaulted her as they walked in. One wall was lined from floor to ceiling in antiquated red, green and brown tomes that looked more useful as paperweights than fonts of legal knowledge.

"Lord Asherton."

Tommy shook hands with a thin man with thick glasses and a suit that looked like it was as old as the office. "Malcolm, good to see you. This is Barbara Havers."

The cadaverous little man took Barbara's extended hand and brought it to his lips. "Enchantée, madame."

"Pleased to meet you," she said pulling her hand back. She looked down to check his lips had not left a burn mark.

Malcolm's high-backed leather chair squeaked as he sat. Tommy and Barbara sat on unyielding padded wooden chairs in front of the enormous mahogany desk. She waited as the solicitor undid the dusty pink ribbon on a thick folder.

"Ms Havers, I just need to complete some details in order to finalise Lord Asherton's will, and also for the payment of your deed."

"Will? Deed?" She looked at Tommy.

"I haven't mentioned details to Barbara, Malcolm."

The solicitor looked at them both in turn and raised his eyebrows. "Ms Havers, Lord Asherton wants to ensure that your future is secure and that in the event of his demise, you are financially independent. To that end he..."

"Your demise?"

"Barbara, just hear Malcolm out."

"He has amended his will to include a bequest for you amounting to 20 percent of his estate which includes his London townhouse. He also wants to gift you a sum now to extinguish the mortgage over your flat in... ah, yes, Chalk Farm."

"No!"

"I'm sorry, Ms Havers."

"What part of no is difficult to understand?" She turned to Tommy. "I'm not having you owning my flat and leaving me money."

"I wouldn't own it. It'd still be in your name."

"You and I would always know you paid for it. Of course, you'd own it. I won't have that. And why include me in your will?"

"I want to make sure that after I go, you are not beholding to Hillier. I want you to be able to walk away if you need to."

"After you go? Tommy?" She was glad her anger had already coloured her face. She had not meant to call him by name, but in her shock, it had slipped out. His smile lit up his face. Barbara saw the pain and fear in his eyes. "Oh, God no!" Barbara sank into her seat.

"Malcolm, could we have a few minutes please?"

"Certainly, Lord Asherton. I'll just be outside."

He knelt down beside her. "I'm sorry, Barbara."

"How long?"

"I don't know. My father took a year to die, but he hid it from us for a long time. He was three years older than I am now."

"When were you diagnosed?"

"I have chosen not to go the medical route."

"You've what?"

"I'm not going through what he did. I'm putting my affairs in order and letting nature take its course."

"You make that sound heroic, but it's not. What did your doctor say?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

Barbara grabbed him by the sleeve. "Tell me, Tommy."

"I haven't consulted a doctor."

"Then how do you know you're dying?"

"I have the same pains and symptoms as my father. Please don't do this, Barbara. I want to look after you. You're my only real friend, and I owe you so much. I didn't plan on telling you this way. I'm sorry. I hope you'll stick by me and... it's a lot to ask, I know, but I want you there when I go... if you can."

Barbara's world shattered around her. She knuckled tears from her eyes and tried to smile. "Yes, you know I will, but... I can't accept what you're saying. You have to find out. Medical science has advanced in twenty years."

"Barbara..."

"No. I don't want you to die, Tommy."

His arms enveloped her. She clung to him as they both breathed into each other's neck. "I don't want to die either, but I..."

"What?"

"I'm fortunate. I don't have people dependent on me. Only a limited number of people will care."

"I care. Isn't that enough?"

Tommy looked down. "I..."

"I thought we gave each other reason to get up each day."

Tommy ran his hand over her hair. "You do give me a reason."

"But I'm not enough to live for, is that it?"

"No! Yes, you are who I live for."

"Then why are you determined to die without fighting for me? Don't you know how much I lo... will miss you?"

Tommy tried to hug her, but she held him at arm's length. "Yes. That's why I want you to have independence and know that, even though I'm gone, I'm still looking after you."

"We look after each other. That's the deal. So, yes, I will accept your bequest but only on two conditions."

Tommy frowned. "And they are?"

"Firstly, the money for my flat is only paid if you... die. Secondly, that you have the tests done and we discuss treatment options."

"I'm not lingering on to be bedridden and unable even to toilet myself. I don't want to be like my father, only kept alive by drugs."

"I respect that decision, Tommy, but I can't accept finding out later that if we'd done something earlier, you would have lived."

"Can I think about it?"

"No. Not negotiable. Just the tests and an honest discussion about what they find. That's all I ask. We won't even ask them to give you a timeline."

Tommy closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling. Barbara waited. "Yes. I'll have the tests."

"Good." Barbara sniffed loudly. "Call that wretched little man back in and tell me where to sign. Then let's get out of here before I lose it completely."

* * *

"What are you thinking?" Tommy asked as they sat sipping their third pint.

"I'm trying not to think. When were you going to tell me?"

"When it became apparent."

"You shouldn't be bearing this alone. Have you told your mother or sister?"

"No."

"Sir."

"Tommy. Surely now you can call me Tommy?"

"Old habits. You should tell them."

"Too painful for everyone. I'll wait until I have no alternative, if at all."

"No, you have to tell them. You owe them the chance to say goodbye. Don't let them wish for the rest of their lives that had been able to finalise things. Even with Peter."

"You're right, but not yet."

Barbara looked at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking. "How are you coping with it?"

Tommy put his arm around her shoulder and snuggled against her. "Better now that you know."

She leant her head against him. "I don't want to let you out of my sight."

"I won't die tonight. I think we have a few months."

"Tommy..."

"I know. Let's finish these and go back to my place."

* * *

Barbara flopped into his lounge. Her head pounded. She rubbed her temples as he poured them drinks. Tommy handed her a large glass of whisky. "Headache?"

"It's nothing, sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Barbara." He put his glass down and began to massage her shoulders and neck. "You're very tense."

"I should be looking after you."

"Don't try to smother me with kindness, Barbara. Not yet. I'm still capable of..."

"Of?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not an invalid."

Tommy began to massage her temples and head. It was good. Far too good. "Tommy?"

"Mmm?"

"If I tell you something that I need to say, will you promise not to laugh?"

To her disappointment, he stopped his massage and picked up his drink. "Why would I laugh?"

"You'll understand when I say it."

He sat beside her. "Go on."

"You're my best friend; my only real friend apart from Winston and Stuart. We've been through a lot when you look back over it all."

He nodded and sighed. "Yes. We have indeed."

"What I'm trying to say is... well, that is...I don't know how to phrase this so that you don't think I'm daft."

"Barbara. Just say it. Please."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I love you." When the world did not end in a fireball, she opened her eyes. Tommy had his head tilted to one side. His eyes filled with tears, and he looked at her in a way she could not fathom. "Sorry."

Tommy shook his head. "Don't be. It's something that I've... I can't offer you what you want."

Barbara fought to hold back tears. "I understand. I... I had to say it. We can forget it now."

Tommy lifteed her face to look at him. "You don't understand. I've longed to hear you say that, but..."

"But what?"

"It would be unfair to you now. I love you, so very, very much, but I don't want to hurt you."

"You do? And you think it'd be fairer to pretend we don't and miss the chance to be together?"

"It will be harder... at the end... for both of us."

"No, it won't. It couldn't possibly be more difficult for me, and at least I would have memories of being able to love you fully. And maybe the memories of my love may ease your way."

Barbara felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. Tommy took a sip from his glass then placed it on the table. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Tommy took her gently in his arms. His kiss tasted bittersweet as their mingled tears ran across their lips. He stood and offered his hand. Barbara accepted, and he led her upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry that this story has proved upsetting for some. I have to write the stories the way they form in my head. This one surprised even me.

* * *

His bedroom was larger than she had expected, but not as ornate. In her imagination, the room had heavy, cream chintz curtains and thick carpet. She thought he would sleep in a four-poster bed, with wispy lace curtains that tumbled around it, and layers of soft cushions. The reality was a stark contrast. The curtains and carpet were the same as that in his loungeroom. His bed was timber but modern and purely functional with crisp, white linen sheets and a thin duvet.

Neither of them rushed as they undressed each other. They caressed and kissed necks, shoulders, and arms. Barbara nuzzled into the downy hair of his chest and inhaled his faint scent of leather and vanilla.

"You've wanted to do that for years, haven't you?"

She looked up and grinned at him. "Mmm, do you know how hard it was seeing you and not being able to touch you?"

"You can touch me now," he replied before his kissed her hard.

They tumbled onto the bed and between kisses managed to shed the rest of their clothes. Tommy rustled around in his bedside table drawer. "I have some condoms in here somewhere, I'm sure."

Barbara put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't."

"But..."

"Would it be such a bad thing?"

He shook his head. "No. No, I'd like that. Very much." He pulled her back onto the bed and kissed her with such intensity that Barbara felt light-headed.

The way Tommy loved her fulfilled every one of her needs and desires. Unable to comprehend that she was in Tommy's bed, she explored his skin as if he might shatter to dust and leave her alone. He was gentle and caring as they slowly made love, using their bodies to express emotions that were too raw for words. In his arms, the past and future were irrelevant. All that mattered was love.

By morning, they were exhausted. They had slept in fits and starts, swinging wildly between savage passion and a desperate need to just hold each other close. If a nagging fear of future loss had not weighed them down, Barbara would have been the happiest and most peaceful she had ever felt.

Tommy's arm rolled her to face him. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot, but he was still her Adonis. He grinned at her, with a mysterious, almost wicked, glint in his eyes.

"What?" she asked as she pushed a floppy lock of hair out of his eye.

"I'm happy. Not just sated, or superficially happy. I feel fulfilled as if I've found something that I never knew was missing that has made me complete. Does that make any sense?"

She kissed him. "Yes, I feel that way too."

"I should have initiated this years ago. Then we may have..."

She pressed her finger to his lips. "No. No regrets. We just live every day..."

"As if it's our last?"

"As it comes. Speaking of which... I probably won't be able to walk when I stand up, but you know that thing you did with your tongue?"

Tommy chuckled as he kissed her neck. "You have the devil in you, Havers. But, the gentleman that I am, I'm happy to oblige."

* * *

Barbara insisted on accompanying him to the doctor. Frankly, she did not trust he would go. She knew that he had noticed her observing him closely, looking for symptoms, and he was carefully trying to conceal everything. Tommy let his guard down after breakfast when she caught a reflection in the kitchen tiles of him grimacing and pressing his stomach. She understood his fear but wished he had sought help earlier, and regretted that he could not share his pain with her.

She turned and embraced him. "Don't hide things, Tommy. Not now; not ever."

"I..." He looked down then back up at her. "I love you. You do know that?"

"Yes. I've understood that for a long time." He kissed her forehead. "Get ready. I have something I need to do."

Barbara watched him disappear into his study. She turned to go upstairs when she heard the click of the key in the lock. Racing to the door, she began hammering. "Tommy! Tommy!"

"Barbara?" Tommy opened the door and staggered backwards under her weight as she rushed at him. "What's the matter?"

"I... I thought... when I heard the lock."

Tommy embraced her and kissed her hair as he held her. "No. I wouldn't do that to you, Barbara. Ever. I'm sorry. It's just force of habit."

Aware she was making a fool of herself, Barbara tried to pull away. "Sorry. I..."

"Worry about me? Don't ever be sorry for that."

"I'm fine. I'll be up soon."

* * *

Tommy's doctor, in contrast to his solicitor, worked in a modern office on the edge of the city. The large waiting room had a panoramic view of St James's Park and then over the red roofs of London's north. Orange and aqua seat cushions and a Pollockeque painting splodged with vibrant yellows, brilliant blues and sensual reds, broke the sterility of the minimalist white furniture and grey carpet.

Dr Hewitt briefly passed them as he called another patient into his rooms. He was a tall, thirty-something man with an unruly mop of orange hair. A turquoise stethoscope hung around his neck, and beneath his white lab coat, he wore a lime shirt. Barbara's eyes travelled down to the floor, relieved not to see striped socks and oversized shoes. "Is he colour blind?"

Tommy raised one eyebrow. "I don't think so, why?"

She swept her arm around the office. "It's like a someone re-painted the Clockwork Orange set in fluoro."

She jumped when Tommy leant over and kissed her. "Never stop being you, Havers."

Hewitt listened to Tommy outline his symptoms then directed him onto the couch. Bony fingers dug into Tommy's stomach. Barbara winced as Tommy's face contorted. Hewitt listened to his chest, took his blood pressure and returned to his desk and scribbled some notes. He looked grim. Barbara squeezed Tommy's hand tightly.

"You said your father died from pancreatic cancer?"

"Yes, over twenty-five years ago."

"There's no point in beating around the bush, Tommy. I can feel a mass in your upper abdomen. Any number of conditions could cause it, but from its position, I think it is more likely in your stomach than pancreas. But it can be very deceptive. Before I recommend a specialist, I am going to send you for blood tests and an ultrasound to see if we can identify the problem. Then I can order an more detailed MRI or Cat scan."

Feeling a mass was not a good sign. Barbara's heart skipped a few beats until she could control her breathing. Tommy nodded. He had that look he used in interviews when he was trying hard not to let his face display any emotion. Barbara knew him too well. Tommy was frightened. The doctor was wasting his platitudes about not worrying until they knew what was wrong. Barbara was as scared as Tommy.

The doctor made some calls. "My colleague will do the ultrasound now. If you go down three floors, the clinic is on the left. Then come back up here. Try not to worry."

"Now that I've taken this step, I want to know, not wait," Tommy said.

"I understand. The ultrasound will give us more information."

As they walked to the lift, Barbara stroked his arm. "We should both take leave for a couple of weeks until things are sorted."

"Hillier will twig something is going on."

"Let him. The Met is not as important to me as it was 24 hours ago and I don't care if he knows about us."

For the first time since they had left Belgravia, Tommy gave her a genuine smile. "Neither do I."

* * *

The silence was oppressive as they drove back to his house. No words could make either of them feel better. The ultrasound showed a large, dense lump on the outside of his stomach. Dr Hewitt had scheduled an MRI for the next morning.

As soon as they were inside his front door, they leapt at each other in a frenzy. Their lovemaking was primal, almost savage, but it served its need. United they felt stronger.

On the cold timber of his hallway, Tommy clutched her in his arms so tightly that she struggled to breathe. "Barbara, it's a lot to ask now, but will you marry me?"

"Yes."

His grip loosened and he began to stroke her back. "We should get a licence as soon as we can."

"Today." She pressed her face against his chest, afraid that looking at him would bring tears.

"Barbara, maybe you need to think about this. Do you still want to marry me if I'm not dying? And if I do, I shouldn't impose..."

Barbara looked up. "Tommy. Stop it. Do you still want me if you're not dying?"

He stroked her hair. "Yes."

"Then just get the damned licence." Her kiss silenced any more objections.

* * *

The results of the tests were inconclusive. "There are elevated markers in your blood, but they could indicate infection. There is no mass in your pancreas, but there is a sizeable tumour attached to your stomach. It is impossible to tell without biopsy if it is malignant and that's best done during an operation to remove it. Either way, it will need to be completely excised. I've already contacted a surgeon. He can operate on Thursday."

Tommy shrank into his chair. Barbara's hand tightened around his fingers. "I want to wait."

Barbara sat up and tugged his arm. "No, you can't delay this, Tommy."

"I want to wait until we're married. I don't want to... If anything happens, I want to marry you first. I'm sorry, but we have to postpone the operation for a month."

Dr Hewitt frowned. "That's not advisable, Tommy. I can write a letter so you can get a special licence. I'd like to schedule surgery for Monday."

"Today's Thursday," Barbara said, "that gives us time."

Tommy nodded. "Saturday? We could marry on Saturday if that gives you time."

Barbara found it hard to contain her smile. Even in this whirlwind of circumstances, she was happy. "Yes, Saturday."


	3. Chapter 3

"So, Mrs Lynley, how would you like to spend your wedding night?"

"To be honest, Mr Lynley, I hadn't thought about it." Barbara put her arm around her husband's waist as they walked out of the Kensington and Chelsea Register Office. She glanced up at him. His hair had remained tame for the short service but now threatened to tumble across his face. His eyes shone, and he had lost the haunted shadow behind his eyes. Dressed in his finest soft grey cashmere suit with a sky blue shirt and navy tie, he looked incredibly sexy. "Although your bed is looming large in my mind."

"All in good time. Every bride should have a proper wedding breakfast."

"It's after three in the afternoon."

"Don't be technical. Every bride should have a proper wedding afternoon tea."

"I am a bit hungry." Tommy gave her one of his smuggest looks. "Go on, say it. I'm always hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"Haha. So which pub do you have in mind?"

"Oh no. I'm not telling you that until we get there."

"Well, I'm thirsty. Better hail a cab."

"No need." Tommy pulled out his mobile and quickly thumbed an SMS. A minute later a brilliantly polished maroon carriage clopped around the corner, drawn by two exquisite black horses with coats that shone like obsidian.

"Tommy!"

The carriage driver slowed the horses to a stop. He nodded deferentially to Tommy. "M'lord, M'lady." He doffed his top hat towards Barbara. Embarrassed, she was not sure where to look, so focussed on the driver's uniform. The brim of the man's hat was turned up at the sides and bore the traditional yellow riband of the livery drivers. His soft black knee boots had a wide brown cuff which she thought clashed slightly with the overall monochrome effect dominated by the long double-breasted black coat with pewter buttons. She did not envy him trying to keep his flawless white britches clean around the horses with their long black tails likely to swish the contents of the catch bag over them. She finally looked up at his face, amused to see that the white cravat tied at his neck looked too tight, making his face red and his neck bulge.

The new Lady Asherton smiled at the driver as he stepped down from his seat. He momentarily stopped. Barbara worried that perhaps one was not supposed to acknowledge him. For the first time since agreeing to marry Tommy, she remembered the life she had signed up to live. One of the horses turned its head and seemed to look her up and down as if it knew she was only posing as a countess.

The driver returned her smile then opened the door of the carriage and pulled down the steps. He held out his gloved hand to assist her aboard. "M'lady."

"Thank you," Barbara said with as much dignity as she could muster.

A beaming Tommy climbed in beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. Barbara cuddled into him. "And thank you, M'lord."

Tommy kissed her. As the driver gave the horses a loud double click, the carriage rolled forward, and Barbara pushed Tommy gently away. "You can wait. I want to enjoy the ride."

As the carriage rolled down King's Road and past the high white spires of Albert Bridge, people on the footpaths pointed and waved. Barbara waved back, even practising the renowned Royal roll of the wrists. "Now I know how the Queen feels."

"And with you beside me, I am a king."

"You were always a king to me. Well, a prince anyway."

"Prince Charming?"

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself."

Tommy nestled her closer then whispered in her ear exactly what he intended to do with her when they were alone. Barbara blushed then ran her hand up the inside of his thigh. "We could turn around and go home now."

Her husband removed her hand and placed it back on her lap. "Patience, my dear, patience."

The carriage turned into Battersea Park. Winding along the path under the trees, Barbara gazed at the river. A small boat puttered past, and two children ran up and down the deck, gesticulating furiously. Barbara raised her arm and signalled back to the delighted squeals of the two boys.

The horse slowed to a stop. Ahead, on the small bank, was a small table covered in crisp, white linen that spilt over the grass. Two red candles stood tall in a silver candelabra. Soft music drifted through the trees as a waiter lit the candles. Barbara looked up to see a string quartet, dressed in dinner suits with white ties, sitting on a small dais between two oaks.

She looked over and smiled. "You're an old romantic, Tommy."

"Mmm. It seems I am. Too much?"

Barbara fought back the tears. "No, perfect."

He put his arm around her shoulder and leant his head on hers. "I wanted something special for you always to remember."

"For us to remember."

"I hope so, but if not I want you to know that I wouldn't change anything. I'd rather have had this week together than another decade without you in my bed."

Barbara had to focus so that she did not burst into tears. It was not what either of them needed. "So this is just sex for you then?" She heard her voice catch slightly.

"Yes, that's it. I'm just after your body," Tommy said grinning broadly. To emphasise his point, he turned her to face him then kissed her.

"I knew it," she said, "but it would be such a shame to waste all this."

Tommy escorted her to the table and held out her chair as she sat. On the table, there was silverware set for several courses. Barbara tried to glance around surreptitiously to find the source of the food. Behind a tree, she spotted a small white tent. A chef's hat moved past the entrance along with a wooden spoon apparently being waved in anger at an under-chef who had not reached the levels of perfection expected.

Barbara had not noticed the waiter leaving until he returned carrying a magnum of her favourite champagne, a taste she had only discovered on Thursday night as they celebrated their engagement. Another waiter appeared with their first course, a mousse she did not recognise but which reminded her of the sea.

Tommy held his glass up. "To us. May we have a marriage full of love and happiness."

"A long marriage," Barbara said, "and always full of love."

"However long, while there are stars in the heavens, you'll know I love you."

"Me too," she replied, quickly taking a drink for fear she might cry.

* * *

Instead of returning to Tommy's townhouse, the carriage took them to a small hotel in Battersea. They were escorted to a room at the top of the three stories that overlooked the Thames. The setting sun glinted off the masts and windows of small boats heading towards Wandsworth. "It's gorgeous."

Tommy stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "Like you."

Barbara's eyes devoured the room, committing everything to memory. She smiled at the large four-poster bed with wispy lace that fell to the ground.

"What?" Tommy asked as he nibbled on her earlobe, eliciting a deep groan.

"The bed. It's what I thought you'd have in your bedroom."

"Our bedroom. Do you want one? I'll buy one for you."

"No, I like your... our bed. It just amused me."

"I know one way to wipe that smile off and replace it with a look I love..."

Tommy kissed her and pushed her up against the chequered window pane. "Oh, yes! Tommy. Oh... !"

* * *

The newlyweds spent most of Sunday in bed, both at Battersea and Belgravia. They made love slowly, laughed, slept, and listened to each other's hearts beating as they snuggled in each other's arms. But mostly they talked. Old regrets and niggling frustrations rapidly diminished as they discussed their reasons for acting as they had. Frank fears and secrets were shared as they discovered how far back their mutual love extended.

Eventually turned their attention to the future. In an ideal world, they wanted two children, possibly three. Neither wanted to live in Cornwall full-time, but they agreed that it was an excellent place to raise young children. Tommy conceded that any sons would not be banished to board at Eton, so long as Barbara agreed to a London public school. Tommy's egalitarianism did not extend to government schooling.

It was not long before serious matters receded, and Tommy's attention returned to more pressing personal needs. "We have to try to make a son before we worry about his education."

Monday brought torrential rains and leaden hearts. Barbara helped Tommy pack a small bag. He was due at the Royal Marsden at ten o'clock.

"I wish you would telephone your mother and let her know what is happening."

"No."

"Tommy."

"What do I say? 'Hi Mother, I might be dying. I am being operated on this morning, and by the way, Barbara and I were married on Saturday.' I don't think so."

"You should tell her something."

"She'd be down here faster than you could blink and would then try to organise everything and badger you with a thousand questions. No, it is better this way. There's a letter for her on my study desk if anything happens. It covers everything. There's one for you too. Only open it at the point when you feel so low that you just don't think you can go on."

"Don't talk like that."

Tommy used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. "I'm just speaking from experience. That moment will come. That's when you need to read it. I had you, but the best I can offer is my letter."

The hospital, specialising in cancer diagnosis and treatment, was preferred by his surgeon to any of London's swankier private hospitals. Better facilities and faster diagnosis meant that Tommy's surgery would be faster and less stressful. He had happily paid for a private room. As they unpacked, the reality of what might happen dawned on Barbara. She had been so busy trying to be supportive and practical that she had ignored the way everything was affecting her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Blatantly untrue," Tommy said as he pulled her into his arms. "I know you've been giving me all your strength and I love you for that. With you, I can face this, whatever it is. Don't try to shield me from how you feel. Together we can cope."

"Now that we've found... what we have... I can't bear the thought of being without you."

"I'll always be with you, in here." Tommy laid his hand over her heart, then kissed her softly. "However, I'm not going to die today, so it's irrelevant. Now help me into this stupid gown."

Time galloped away, and too soon the wardsman arrived with the trolley to take Tommy to the theatre. "Remember what I said, Barbara. I love you and nothing that happens today can change that."

"I love you too."

"See you in a few hours."

The wardsman shuffled his feet and grabbed the trolley by the rail. Barbara and Tommy exchanged one last tearful farewell kiss before he was wheeled away from her up the grey linoleum-lined corridor. Barbara watched the bed disappear around the corner before she shut the door to his room, climbed onto his bed and began to sob.


	4. Chapter 4

After three hours, Barbara began to pace the room. She had been told the operation would take about two hours. Tommy should have been out of Recovery by now and back with her. She hurried to the nurses' station at the end of the ward and saw Rhindah, the South African nurse who had settled them in. The statuesque woman was on the phone as Barbara approached, forcing her to wait. Barbara watched her graceful movements as she filed records, checked charts and wordless directed an old man with a walking frame back to his room, all without loosing a beat in her conversation.

She tried not to stare, so looked around the station. Banks of lights indicated the status of patients in the rooms and the vital signs of the most critical ones were relayed to computer monitors along the back desk. Pamphlets for help lines, grief counselling and dignified funerals seemed to dominate the counter. Dignified seemed such a superfluous word. How many people wanted to give their loved ones an undignified send off? Any funeral director not providing dignity would have been drummed out of business long ago.

Barbara frowned then ran her hand through her hair. She shook her head, aware that she was picking up Tommy's habits and gestures. Impatiently criticizing the array of advertising material was something he would do. Right now she also wished she had his habit of cutting over people to demand answers. Or even of downing multiple scotches to face the world. In the last week her world had been put through the heavy duty cycle of an industrial washing machine and a twist in her gut told her that the tumbling of drying cycle was still to come.

"Oh, hurry up!" Her frustration boiled over into words. Rhonda looked across and smiled and mouthed that she would not be long. Barbara shuffled her weight from foot to foot as she tried to contain her temper. When the nurse hung up the phone, Barbara pounced. "Is there any update on Thomas Lynley? I thought he'd be back by now."

Rhonda gave Barbara the false smile of someone about to deliver bad news. It sent shivers down her spine. "I've just heard that he has just arrived in Recovery. The operation took a lot longer than expected. He should be brought up in the next forty minutes."

At least he was alive. "Why?"

"They need to monitor him and stabilise his pain levels."

Barbara winced. "No, why did the operation take longer? Is that a bad sign?"

Rhonda's saccharine smile returned. "That's something you will have to discuss with his doctor, Mrs Lynley. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"

"No. Thanks anyway. I' might go for a walk outside then I'll wait in his room. You have my number if you need me? I won't go far."

"Yes, Lady Asherton."

The air outside the building smelt of the city. Barbara took several deep breaths to rid her sinuses of antiseptic and impending death. For the first time in years, she wished she still smoked then she thought of the man she had heard earlier wheezing and choking as he fought for air through a tube in what had once been his throat.

She checked her phone to see there were three missed calls from Winston. She called him back. "Hi."

"How's the DI?"

"I don't know. The op took longer and he's still in Recovery."

"Stay calm, Barb. He's tough. He'll make it. So will you."

"Yeah, thanks. What's news at the station?"

"Hillier is still in shock. I'm not sure what hit him more, the DI being so sick, or that you got married."

"The marriage I hope. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before it happened."

"The email with the photo of you two kissing in that carriage was a great way to start the week. I always knew you two would end up together."

"Oh, did you indeed? I never did."

"Even in your wildest dreams late at night when you couldn't sleep?"

"That's very specific. Who do you lie awake dreaming of then?"

"Don't change this to me."

"No, not even in those fantasies. I guess I hoped we might get together in some way. Never that we would marry."

"Nah, you two will be great. Drive the neighbours nuts with your bickering, but I guess if you own the estate, it doesn't matter."

"So what did Hillier say?"

"He was apoplectic. All red in the face and spluttering. Everyone was laughing at him. He can't believe that you both resigned like that. He hasn't processed your paperwork yet. I think he hopes you'll both come back after the DI is better."

"No. We've finally found happiness, Winston. We won't be back."

"What if...?"

"No, I won't come back, especially if that happens. I couldn't be there without Tommy."

"Let me know when he can have visitors. Lafferty and I would like to come over and say hi. Did you know Stuart had a bet placed with a bookmaker about you being Lynley's next wife. He had odds of 230 to 1. He made quite a tidy profit."

Barbara pulled the phone from her ear and looked at it before putting it back to answer. "He did what?"

"He made a killing actually."

"Did everyone know something we didn't?"

"Yeah, of course. You two were, are, made for each other."

"Well tell Stuart he should donate his winnings to a children's charity. Or at least part of them." Barbara's voice was beginning to catch.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Barbara. Probably just an ulcer or something."

"It will be what it is. We'll know soon. I'll call you tomorrow, Winston."

Barbara wandered back to Tommy's ward. If the cream walls and gaily coloured framed floral prints were supposed to engender a feeling of peace, they had the opposite effect. She felt trapped in a world pretending to be something it could never be, ignoring the human pain. She wondered how many scared husbands and wives had sat in the same chair staring at their futures hoping, sometimes beyond reason, that their partners would be cured. The collective fear reached out from the walls. She stood and undid another button on her shirt trying to get more air into lungs that were constricted by the weight on her chest.

The next half hour was agony until she heard the gurney trundling along the corridor. Tommy looked pale but managed a weak smile as he was wheeled into the room. Barbara reached out and tried to take his hand.

"I'm sorry Mrs Lynley, but you need to wait outside until we make your husband comfortable."

Barbara was shunted into the corridor. She paced for ten minutes before they let her back in. "He needs to rest. You are welcome to stay, but let him sleep."

"Hiya," she said taking his hand. It felt heavy but he managed a soft squeeze. Intravenous lines were attached to his arm, one providing fluids and a second replenishing his blood. A partially filled catheter bag hung beside the bed and a thick tube filled both his nostrils. Barbara was not sure if it was providing air or to drain the stomach as the doctors had warned might be necessary. Tommy had heavy dark circles under his eyes and his skin was clammy.

"I missed you." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Not half as much as I missed you. The operation took longer than they said. Did the doctor tell you anything?"

"No. Said he'd be up later."

"Are you in pain?"

"No, I still feel high. I can understand why drug-users become addicted. It's much smoother than drowning in scotch."

"Don't get too used to either."

Tommy grinned at her. "Oh, laying down the law now are we, Lady Asherton?"

"It's my job to keep you safe."

"You always have."

Barbara bent down and kissed him gently. "You should sleep. I'll be right here."

* * *

Tommy was still asleep when the doctor arrived. Dressed in a pinstriped navy and white shirt with a red bowtie, Barbara initially struggled to take him seriously. He checked the chart then examined the huge dressing that seemed to cover Tommy's entire abdomen. Patches of blood had formed dark stains in a long line across his stomach.

"Lord Asherton," he said shaking Tommy awake, "it's Doctor Liddy."

"Doctor," Tommy replied, "what did you find?"

"I won't beat around the bush. There was a malignant tumour attached to your stomach. It appears to be a lymphoma emanating from one or more lymph glands near the duodenum." Tommy squeezed Barbara's hand painfully. She looked over and tried her best reassuring smile.

Liddy continued, oblivious to their reaction. "I removed it and resected your stomach. I was able to save over eighty percent of that so you should have near normal gastric function. If you have any questions I will come around tomorrow."

"Questions. Of course we have questions," Barbara nearly yelled at the doctor.

The doctor softened his tone. "I understand Lady Asherton. Until we conduct further testing on the tumour and do some more scans tomorrow, we are not in a position to discuss treatment plans or prognosis. All I can say is that I am confident that we have removed all of the tumour. Whether there are more, or how likely the cancer is to return, I cannot speculate at this stage."

Barbara sank back into her chair. "Thank you, doctor," Tommy said as he squeezed her hand, "we understand."

Liddy wished them a peaceful night then scurried away. Tommy stared at the ceiling. Barbara watched him, for the first time truly scared that she might lose him. "It's good that they got it all."

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

"Sore and numb. I think I knew all along it was cancer."

"It's only a word not a sentence. Treatments are much better now."

"You don't regret it, do you?"

Barbara stared at him trying to work out what he meant. "Regret what?"

"Marrying me. We should have waited until we had a prognosis. Now you're stuck with me. No, I'd never do that. I'd never hold you. We can have the marriage annulled."

"Stop it! I don't regret it and don't you dare try to push me away. Not now. We might not have said for better or worse in the service, but that was my intention. I am your wife. I will stay your wife until the day, hopefully in the distant future, that one of us dies. Do you understand me?"

Tommy grinned at her. "Yes ma'am."

"That's better."

"Thank you, Barbara."

"I love you, you idiot. As if I would leave you because of this. You have to try a lot harder to get rid of me."

"I concede defeat and will never accept that challenge."

Barbara leant over and kissed him. "We'll manage. We always do."

* * *

It is at this point that the story diverges. Chapters 5 and 6 will be alternative endings for the story. I think most of you will choose Chapter 5, but Chapter 6 was the original way the story came to me, so had to be written. They will be published together in a few days.


	5. Chapter 5

Slight change of plan, Chapter 5 can be read by everyone. Chapter 6 is a continuation of this but has a very different ending.

* * *

It was two days before the doctor would have any news that was helpful. Tommy had been sent for a range of tests, most of which, despite his brave face, Barbara could see left him tired and more than a little anxious about future treatment regimes. The morphine was keeping his pain levels down while he lay still, but she could see the discomfort on his face when he moved too much.

The social worker had given them brochures on what to expect recovering from stomach surgery and information leaflets on lymphoma, but until they had an accurate diagnosis, it was difficult to know what their future held. Barbara was determined to stay positive. Tommy, however, seemed to have sunk into a dangerous mood.

When he returned from his latest scan and snapped at her for fussing too much, she glared at him. "Sorry. I'm just... with everything..."

She rubbed her knuckles lovingly up and down his unshaven face. "I know. The worst part is not knowing. If we knew, we could make a plan, do something. Right now, I feel impotent. I can't do anything for you and..."

Tommy grabbed her hand and kissed it. "You are doing something for me. Everything. You're the reason I'm determined to beat this. Your love is the most precious thing to me. And your strength. You make all the difference. Before I didn't care whether I lived or died; I only wanted to make sure you were okay once I did. Now, I want to stay on this earth and be with you as long as I can."

"And you will. We're a double act remember?"

"Always." Barbara leant down and kissed him. "One thing bothers me, though. It's been keeping me awake."

"What?"

"Once I know, I should tell Mother, but I'm not sure how to do it."

"I can ring her and tell her you're in the hospital. Or you could ring Judith."

Tommy sighed. "Is that being cowardly?"

"A little maybe, but under the circumstances, it's understandable."

Tommy closed his eyes for several seconds. "No, I need to ring her and then face her."

"Can I be absent that day?"

"No way! Double act remember."

"I knew you were going to say that."

The warning bell for the end of visiting hours sounded. They both looked at each other and sighed. "I hate this part of the day most," he said.

Barbara leant down close to him. "Me too. You be good tonight, and I'll see you first thing in the morning."

"And attached to all this, how do you think I'm going to be bad?"

"I don't know. You can charm anyone, even like that. Maybe some young, impressionable nurse will come along..." Her suggestion was swallowed in his kiss.

"As long as I still charm you."

* * *

On the third day after Tommy's operation, Barbara arrived at the hospital as soon as visiting hours began. She dreaded what the day might hold, but put on her happy face. "Good morning, Tom... what's wrong?"

Tommy was flat on his back with the bottom of his bed elevated. Barbara's heart skipped several beats until he looked over and smiled. "I had a bad night, and despite these wretched compression stockings, my legs have swollen up like balloons."

Barbara rushed over and took his hand. "What did the doctors say?"

"That it happens. I have to stay like this until my legs go down. I barely got any sleep."

"Oh, my poor bear. Do you want me to go and come back later?"

"No! Stay. Please?"

Barbara leant down and kissed him. "Of course I'll stay."

"I'd sleep better if I could have you down here with me."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't dare it with all those tubes. But I can sit here and talk to you, or watch you sleep."

"Let's talk about anything other than hospitals and diseases. What did you do last night?"

"Nothing much. Without you, I'm back to my boring old Havers mode. I watched TV, ate a frozen dinner, had a long bath then went to bed. I was going to move more of my stuff from the flat over to your place, but I was too tired."

"I don't wonder, spending all day stuck here. I heard the nurses say I would be in the hospital for three weeks. I thought maybe a week."

Barbara pushed a lock of hair away from his eye. "You've had major surgery. A week was optimistic."

"I can afford in-home nursing. The burden wouldn't fall on you."

Barbara sat up. "I wasn't thinking about me. I can nurse you."

"Sorry, that came out badly. I meant that I could afford specialist care. I am not like others who need to rely on their families for anything other than emotional support. So they could release me earlier."

"They can release you when you are well enough and not a minute before. And providing you with emotional support has been my role for years."

"Then kiss me again."

This time their kiss was more intimate than just a greeting. Dr Liddy had coughed three times before they noticed him. "Sorry to interrupt."

Barbara felt the heat in her cheeks. She could think of nothing to say that would lessen her embarrassment. "Morning, Doctor."

"I have some updates for you."

Barbara grabbed Tommy's hand and held it tightly. It was more for her benefit than his, but he gripped her equally hard. They exchanged a quick look that conveyed their fears.

"It was a Grade I tumour which is the best type to have as it means that at the moment there is no evidence of it having spread beyond the local site. The second piece of good news is that it was not aggressive. Even so, we still want to implement a drug regime to kill any rogue cells that might be lurking."

"Chemo?" Barbara swallowed hard and crushed her husband's hand in hers. She had expected Tommy would need treatment but the thought of him losing his beautiful hair saddened her. She would not love him any less, but she did like to run her hands through those locks.

"No, we think immunotherapy would suit you better, Lord Asherton. It has fewer side effects and stimulates your immune system to fight it. If that fails, we can resort to radiation and chemotherapy."

"So what are the chances cancer will come back?" Tommy asked.

"Hard to say, maybe fifty percent, but we will monitor you closely so any new ones we should catch early. I'd say that if you respond to the immunotherapy, you have a high chance of living an average lifespan."

Tommy looked at Barbara. His smile was wider than she had ever seen it. "How long before I can go home?"

"The immunotherapy is best started here to minimise your exposure to disease. We will start after your stomach has healed more. You should prepare to be here for six weeks, after which we will continue treatment on an outpatient basis. We have other rooms that are more comfortable once you commence treatment."

"Could I have it at home? I can afford to hire nurses."

"We would prefer it was done here. At least to start with. If it progresses well, we can consider that."

Tommy smiled tightly. "Thank you, Doctor."

Dr Liddy nodded and was about to leave when Barbara stood up and hugged him. "Thank you, Doctor. That's the best possible news."

"My pleasure." He stiffened in her embrace then patted her awkwardly on the back. Barbara released him, and he straightened his bow tie. "Now, if you will excuse me."

Barbara turned back to Tommy. As soon as they were alone, they started to laugh until tears ran down their faces. Barbara lay her head on his pillow, and they stroked each other's faces. Words were not necessary.

* * *

A week later as she waited for the bus, Barbara chewed on three indigestion tablets. She had felt vaguely unwell for three days. At first, she thought it was too much Indian takeaway, but after two nights eating only boiled eggs, she suspected it was something more. Tommy relied on her visits, but she did not want to expose him to anything. She dialled his number.

"Hello, my love," he said brightly, "on your way over?"

"Yeah, but my indigestion is worse. I feel a bit unwell. I don't want to give you anything."

"Oh." His disappointment threatened to leap out of the phone and strangle her.

"I want to stop at the doctor's first and get the all clear."

"Very sensible. Hopefully, it is nothing. I know it's selfish, but I want to see you if you are well enough. On a positive note, they want to start me on solids today."

"That's great. I'll be there as soon as I can. Love you."

"And I love you, Barbara."

Barbara phoned Tommy's doctor. His receptionist checked and managed to find a slot for her between two patients who were only having regular quick appointments.

Dr Hewitt had been visiting Tommy at the hospital, and Barbara had grown used to his eccentricities and flashy clothes. When he called her into his office, though, his red trousers and mustard shirt made her pause. "Good morning, Doctor."

"Hello, Barbara. How can I help?"

"I have indigestion with vague nausea. It started the other night. I wouldn't usually bother a doctor, but with Tommy being so sensitive to germs."

"Of course. Let's examine you."

He ushered her onto the couch and began poking around her abdomen before taking her temperature, listening to her heart and breathing, and feeling the glands in her neck.

"Well?"

"Any other symptoms?"

"Tiredness, but I think that's normal in the circumstances. I'm a bit constipated."

"And when was your last period?"

"I'm not sure. Probably due soon. I don't really keep track."

"Right. Can you provide a urine sample?"

Barbara returned with a hot bottle of dark urine. The doctor held it to the light. "You're not drinking enough, which is most likely why you are constipated." He opened the bottle and dipped in three test strips. "No sugar, that's good. No blood. Oh, hello."

* * *

It was after lunch by the time she arrived at the hospital. Tommy was sitting up in his chair by the window when Barbara strode through the door. His face lit up in a broad, cheeky grin. "I was beginning to think you couldn't come today, but I'm glad you did. Can't keep away from me?"

"So it seems."

"So it was just indigestion?"

Barbara walked over and kissed him passionately. "Not exactly."

"But not contagious obviously."

"Actually, I caught it from you," she said as she sat on the air of his chair.

"Me?" Tommy started to go pale.

"Nothing bad. Or at least I hope you don't think so."

Tommy frowned then began to smile. "Barbara... are we?"

"Yes! It seems carriage rides and romantic hotels predispose me to conceive."

"That's wonderful news!" Tommy wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shirt. Wet tears tickled her skin.

"You're supposed to be happy, not cry."

"I can't help it. This is the best incentive to get out of here."

"The best incentive?"

Tommy pulled her down into his lap. "Now I come to think about it, I can think of something else."

"Hmm, such as?"

"Practising for Number Two."

"Hmm, yes please."

They laughed before their impatient lips found each other again.

* * *

This is where the story can end for many of you who prefer happy ever afters. Chapter 6 is the original end as it came to me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:** Chapter 5 can be a perfect end to the story if you wish.

This chapter is, more or less, my original ending and it contains the death of a major character. It contains some elements which people may find odd/distasteful, but which, in context, I think make sense for the characters. And yes, it is smaltzy, but Tommy would want to ease her pain...

* * *

Barbara looked outside their bedroom window. It was not long after noon, but it could easily have been dusk. Leaden clouds shrouded the sky. The rain had stopped for now, but the kerbs were choked with shredded autumn leaves washed into piles at the edges of the gutter. The large beech trees near the park were bending over then snapping back to attention as gusts of wind foretold a coming tempest. On the morning news, they had predicted the storm of the century. Savage winds, treacherous seas and a deluge of pounding rain were expected to hit southern England in a few hours, with the storm due in London shortly after.

"It's going to be bad, Tommy."

"I know." Her husband smiled weakly at her. "So much for England's green and pleasant land. I had hoped for some sunshine or maybe just one lonely cloud."

Barbara swallowed hard as the sound of Jerusalem threatened to become an earworm. This was not a mighty, glorious day. Tommy was not a soldier in a fight for English honour. She looked over and smiled at his attempted humour. His eyes softened as he looked at her. Even now one look could make her stomach somersault.

"Barbara, I need to see Winston and Stuart. Would you mind calling them before the storm hits?"

Barbara nodded. "Matthew, you look after Daddy."

The five-year-old boy looked up from his game of steering his toy truck over the hills and valleys of Tommy's legs under the bedclothes. "Okay, Mummy."

Barbara scooped Charlotte up in her arms as she kissed Tommy. "Back in a minute."

She hurried to the phone and dialled Winston. "Hiya. He wants to see you and Stuart. I think he feels his time is near." Her voice caught on the last word.

"I'll call Lafferty now and come straight over. We should beat the storm. How are you coping?"

"I'm not really, but I'm holding it together. I'm just glad his mother died last year. It would have been much harder with her fussing. Judith and Peter were here earlier, but Tommy asked them to go home and remember him alive." Barbara sniffed loudly.

"Bloody cancer!"

Barbara nodded as she searched in her pocket for a tissue. "We thought he had it beaten."

"I know, Barb. After everything you've both been through, it's so unfair. I'll ring Stuart."

"Thanks. See you soon."

Barbara walked back to their bedroom trying to compose herself. In the six months since they had learnt that cancer had aggressively invaded his bones, they had lived with the knowledge that this day would come. That made it no easier. She knew she had to go on, for their children, but she had no desire to live without Tommy by her side.

She watched him talking to Matthew then pushing the lock of hair out of his son's eye. Matthew Thomas Lynley was so much like his father in looks and mannerisms that it sometimes hurt to look at him. Disease had robbed Tommy of his thick hair and handsome face. He was now emaciated, and his leathery skin had a sallow hue that matched his thin grey hair, but propped up on his pillows in his navy and white pinstriped pyjamas, he still managed to look regal. None of that mattered to Barbara. She loved him and the family they had created.

"They're coming," she said as she climbed onto the bed beside him.

He put his arm around her and nestled Charlotte into his other side. Tommy had wanted to spend as much time with his children as possible. Barbara knew that he hoped that despite their young ages, they would remember something about him.

"Thank you," he said wheezily. "There are a few things I need to tell you."

"Tommy."

"No, it's time Barbara. We both know that."

Barbara felt tears well in her eyes. "Not yet, please Tommy."

He kissed her forehead. "Listen to me."

Barbara's tears fell onto his chest. "Tommy..."

He took a deep breath. She could see that talking was tiring him. "It's important to me, Barbara. I want to be your lover and friend and a father to Matthew and Charlotte as much as I can be, even though I'm not here in body."

"You'll always be that."

"Even though it might be painful, will you try to keep my memory alive for them?"

"Of course. I... they will always know you loved them."

"And I don't want you to be alone or lonely. If you find someone else..."

Barbara looked at him. He was smiling, but she was horrified he could even think that of her. "I won't!"

"You don't know that." Tommy stroked her head and gently kissed her hair. "I don't want you to feel guilty because I will be happy for you. I know you'll always love me, but you can love someone else too."

"Not like this. I could never love anyone the way I love you."

"Just remember what I said. I made my mother miserable because I didn't understand that. I won't impose that burden on you too." Tommy's grip was weak, but he pulled her as close as he could. Barbara helped by burrowing into his side. "I wouldn't trade a day of being with you for even decades of life without you, or even life as we were before I got sick. You and the children have made me the happiest I have ever been."

"I'd trade a few days to have you live longer. Tommy, I..."

"Shush, don't upset yourself. If I could, I would make love to you; you know that. Come up here and give me a kiss."

* * *

Within the hour, Winston and Stuart arrived. Barbara reluctantly left Tommy to go downstairs. The wind howled through the entrance foyer as she opened the door. Their two friends stood bedraggled on the step. "Come in. This weather is shocking."

"Half of London is closed down," Winston replied as he shrugged off his coat. "How is he?"

"Weak. I don't know how I'm going to do this."

"You'll cope, Barbara," Stuart said, "you'll give each other strength."

She led them upstairs and ushered them in. Tommy looked up and smiled. "Matthew, take Charlotte and Mummy downstairs and have some cake. I need to talk to Uncle Winston and Uncle Stuart."

Matthew raced over and grabbed his mother's hand and tugged her towards the door. "Is it chocolate cake?"

"Yes." Barbara frowned at Tommy who nodded.

Barbara took them downstairs, cut two small slices of cake, and waited. It was only five minutes before Winston came down. "Finished your cake?"

"Yes," Matthew said. He glared up at his mother just the way his father had often done. "It was only a small piece."

Winston smiled then ruffled the boy's hair. "You can go back to Daddy now."

The boy ran back up the stairs. Barbara turned to Winston and raised her eyebrows. He smiled. "Matthew's so much like him isn't he?"

"I think that's going to be a blessing and a curse. Why did Tommy want me out of the room?"

"He wanted to remind us to look after you and the kids."

"He worries too much."

"Of course he does. He knows you. He knows you will try to do everything yourself, and he needs us to make sure you don't wear yourself out."

Barbara tried to smile but felt the tears coming. "We don't deserve this."

"No one does. Now go back upstairs and be with him."

Stuart was just leaving as Barbara entered their bedroom. He rubbed her upper arm. "Maybe an hour, maybe less, " he whispered. "I'm sorry."

She nodded. "Will it be peaceful? I'd like the kids to stay with him as long as possible."

"It should be. He asked me to give him another shot of morphine. It was almost due anyway from his chart. He should just drift away. Go and say goodbye."

Barbara had never seen Stuart without his blustery wit. Now tears ran openly down his face. She could not speak, or she would lose any control that she was somehow mustering. She walked over and sat on the bed. Little Charlotte, with her mop of wavy red hair, crawled over to her father who pulled her against him. Matthew seemed to sense the mood. He abandoned his truck and snuggled in beside Charlotte.

"Kiss your father," she squeaked. Tommy smiled across at her.

"Love you, Daddy." Matthew wrapped his arms around Tommy's neck and kissed him.

"I love you too, Matthew. Very much. Remember that." The boy looked at his father and nodded.

"Dadda! Dadda!" Barbara lifted Charlotte up to Tommy.

"Love you too, Princess." He kissed her before Barbara tucked her down beside Matthew.

"Thank you, Barbara, for everything."

"And you. I love you, Tommy." She leant over wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Goodbye. Oh, God, that sounds so final. I need you, Tommy."

"It's only au revoir, not goodbye. I'll be waiting for you." He gave her one of his special smiles. For a moment all the years drained away, and she saw Tommy as he had been - proud bearing, wavy hair, and deep brown eyes that just made you fall in love with him. "I love you so much, Barbara."

She smiled and nodded then snuggled into his chest. Wordlessly, the family clung together and waited.

* * *

Tommy's breathing became more shallow. Barbara listened to his heart slowing. She thought he was either asleep or unconscious until his arm tightened around her. He sighed heavily. "I love you..."

"I love you too, Tommy."

His heart stopped. She listened in vain for it to start again. His grip softened, and his head fell gently on top of hers. Barbara could not move. Oddly, it seemed peaceful lying there together, as if Tommy had enveloped her in a wonderful loving cocoon. She wanted to remain like this forever.

She had no idea how long they stayed cuddled together. Fighting back the tears, she knew it was time. Barbara nudged her son. "Matthew, go and find Uncle Winston for me."

The boy returned shortly with Winston and Stuart. Barbara was standing by the window watching the growing storm with a sleepy Charlotte in her arms. "Barbara?"

She turned to Winston and nodded. Stuart walked over and took the girl. Winston went to hug Barbara. "No!"

Winston stepped back. "Sorry, I..."

"I know. I just want to keep the feeling of Tommy holding me as long as I can. If you hug me, I lose that. Daft, I know."

"No, it's not. Do you want us to read to the kids, give you some time alone?"

She nodded her head quickly. "Not alone. He's still here. I can feel him."

Barbara no longer tried to hold back her tears. They cascaded over her cheeks and fell in large drops onto the carpet. Without warning, light filled the room. Thunder shook the house and the lights flickered before resuming their steady glow. Rain began to hammer on the window. She looked out to see that lightning had cleaved the tree opposite in two.

Stuart looked at Barbara with misty, sorrowful eyes. "When beggars die there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes."*

Barbara smiled through her tears. "I told him once he was my prince."

"He loved you, Barbara," Winston said.

"I loved him more."

"He asked us to give you this." Winston handed Barbara a thick envelope with her name neatly written in Tommy's hand.

Stuart reached under the bed and pulled out a large box and Tommy's laptop and put them on the small desk by the window. "He also asked us to give you these. The first letter explains it all."

Barbara reached out with a shaking hand. She opened the box to find hundreds of envelopes all arranged in neat lines for her, Matthew and Charlotte.

Barbara looked back at her husband lying peacefully on their bed. "Oh, Tommy."

"Come on kids," Stuart said with forced cheer. "Mummy needs to say goodbye to Daddy."

Barbara locked the door behind them. She sat on the edge of the bed and with fumbling hands opened the first letter. Several sheets of papers fell out, all handwritten.

 _My Dearest, Dearest Barbara,_

 _I have been trying to find words to help you through this day. You have always known how to bring me solace, from our very first case together. I know, by contrast, I have driven you mad at times. For that I am sorry. Knowing you were always there and that you forgave me and loved me for all my faults and foibles gave me strength._

 _I know how much being apart hurts; and if there had been any way to stay with you, I would have done it. I love you as much as any man has ever loved a woman. I would say more, but that would be a foolish vanity. What we have can never die even when our bodies fail. It will live on in you, and our children._

 _I want to stay as your lover and friend, and as the children's father, as long as I can. In the end, I know only time dulls the pain. So if these letters are too raw for you, put them aside. Maybe one day you will find comfort in them._

 _I have tried to write some words of wisdom for all the occasions I could think will affect Matthew and Charlotte. There are letters for them starting school, one teaching Matthew how to shave, and one for the father-son sex talk that I hope goes better than the one I had with my father. There are also letters about how to treat women properly, how to cope being an earl and living with everyone's expectations, a reminder to respect you when they get to that rebellious teenage stage, and one for Charlotte on her wedding day. I even have one for you if you want to remarry._

 _I also had the bright idea to do some videos. They are on my laptop in a folder called, not very originally, Videos for Barbara, Videos for Matthew, etc. Some are on similar topics for the children but yours, well you'll see. I am grinning at you now. Remember that look? The one that you could never resist and had us tearing off our clothes as we raced to the bedroom._

 _The following letter was the one I wrote that first night when we didn't know what the future held, and you were worried I was going to do something stupid. I never gave it to you, because life turned out well for us, but I want you to read it now._

 _I won't tell you not to cry, although I wish I were there to hold you. Whenever you feel sad, t_ _ake some strength from knowing_ _that I am still there for you, in your heart._

 _I love you, Barbara. More than words can ever say, but you know that._

 _Tommy_

At the bottom of the page, he had drawn a heart with their initials. She opened the second letter.

 _My friend, my new lover, my life,_

 _I cannot tell what the future holds, but I want to spend it with you. Last night, in your arms and experiencing your love, I found myself. My true self, not the one I want to be or think I should be, but who I truly am. I have no wealth without the gift of your love. I want to race upstairs now and ask you to marry me, but until we know if I am ill, that would not be fair. What the doctor might say today scares me, but I know with you beside me, we can cope with anything, even the worst of news. You calm my fear and give me hope, and an incentive to live every day as fully as I can._

 _So I will write it all down in the hopes that one day I can share all my thoughts and dreams with you._

 _Today, it is enough to say that I am overwhelmed by love, yours and mine. My heart is free and I want to revel in everything we have together. And now I am going to go back upstairs and make love to you again. I will never tire of that._

 _All my love, always,_

 _Tommy xxx_

In a different pen he had added.

 _There is a letter on my laptop for every day we were together. They are in a folder labelled Love Letters for Barbara. Don't read them all at once. T xxx_

Barbara did a quick calculation. That would mean he had written her over 2,000 love letters. Barbara laughed then stroked his face. "That is so typical of you to try to control everything, but the letters..." Her vouce gave way to sobs as she tried to breath through tears and choked up sinuses. "Are beautiful. Thank you."

She climbed back into bed with Tommy and pulled his arms around her and snuggled her face into his chest. His familiar smell was comforting. "I can't leave you yet. The world can just wait a few minutes."

Another lightning strike lit up the room, and the echoes of the thunder shook her. "I know, Tommy. I love you too."

* * *

*Julius Caesar II ii 30-31


End file.
